26 December 1170

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Becket knew his king had not forgiven him, nor had he forgotten the plan to strip the monasteries and convents of their wealth to pay for the frivolities of the court. The readings he used in today's sermon were not the usual ones for the first day after Christmas, but he'd prayed, as Christ had at Gethsemane, and found that these words needed to be spoken and heard throughout Britain.

The joy of Christmastide be with you all.In this time of peace, we rememberOur Lord's birth, but I want to speak of his life,Of Jesus' words and wisdom, his teachings.Through this we shall learn together by HisExample our duties to our sovereign.

Only three times did our Lord speak of moneyAnd the duty owed to Caesars and Kings.Two parables further tell us storiesOf thrift, wisdom, and service due to God.

The widow's mite, small, mean, not even worthThe price of a dove to make sacrifice,Showed that all must give what they have on this earthTo be recognized, nay welcomed, in Heaven.

Our Lord was asked about Roman taxes,For we all know that taxes abideWith us as closely as the promises of paradise in the life to come,He asked for a coin, asked the visageMinted on the face of it, awaitedThe answer of Caesar, no matter theTrue name, Augustus, Tiberias,Caesar, leader of Empire, who claimed heWas a god walking the earth, rulerOf vast dominions, though we know evenHe, a king, will come to dust until timeEnds and the trumpet calls all who dwelt hereTo rise and be judged, that name was given.And Jesus spoke, "Render unto CaesarThat which belongs to Caesar his coins areHis alone."But, He also said"Render unto God, our Father, the giftsOf your soul, the tithes from your fields, the bestOf your labor, for prayers and sacrificeDue to the Almighty, our Creator."These offerings are to help the poor, hungry,Those severed from the blessings of the earth.They warm the cold, comfort the sick, offerPhysic to both body and soul before death.We owe taxes to our King, thanks for hisProtection and strength, his mind, soul, bodyAll belong to his people, just as we Belong to our king and bow to his wisdom.

In his parables, Christ describedSeven wise and seven foolish virginsAwaiting the bridegroom. The foolish sleep. Lamps blownOut by the wind while they surfeit on slumber.The wise virgins keep vigil, trim the wicks, Refill the oil. Their flames burn brightly, shineAcross the fields, beckoning the bridegroomTo the warmth of his rooms, the heat of hisBridal bed, the blushes of his new bride.

It is too easy for us to fall asleep.If we forget to keep the lamps burning,We need to pray for forgiveness,Atone by sharing our lot with those lock'dAway from the world, eyes turned heavenward,Comtemplating the beauty of God, Christ,Breathing the wisdom of the Holy Ghost.In times of plague or famine, when the worldFalls fallow and fear rules us all, these our Brothers and Sisters in Christ succor all.

Our monasteries and our convents, too,Illustrate the parable of the talents.Like the King, they are the wise stewardsWho do not bury their talents to keepThem safe, but invest that they may grow inAbundance, allowing enough to be shared.The King's talents are outward: protection,War, treaties, peace, kindness to those who most Deserve mercy and swift, sure justice forAll who turn their backs on the laws of man.The King cannot try a violator of God's laws. Canon law is decided byCanon courts, the abbot of the order,Or by the most holy Pope, the ultimateLeader of the Church, my brother bishop.

It is the last of our stories of JesusWhich is most important today, his wrath,Fierce and implacable, toward defilersOf the temple, the moneychangers whoChanged his father's house into a marketplace.After his triumph, crowds singing, chanting Hosanna to David's son, it was right That he visit the temple, leading hisDisciples to the place where God should beClosest to man, his creation. The prayersRise up, the veil separating heavenAnd the angels from all earthly caresIs thin there. His magnificent presenceSurrounds all who enter in reverence.Yet the moneychangers, who take Caesar'sGelt and transform it to temple coins,Hawk their services; the farmers who Raise animals for sacrifice, cry outTheir wares, voices jangling and disturbingThe hush of contemplation.

It was right that Christ whipped them away.Defiling the Lord's temple, or convent,Monastery, cathedral, or church isNot to be borne.

The gentlest example is Zaccheus,Whose story is found in Matthew's gospel. He was humble enough to hide himselfIn a tree to listen to Jesus' words.He was humble enough to hear and knowHe had wronged those from whom he'd taken moreThan they owed to Rome and profited himself.If you take, you must return twice overTo him you have wronged, so says the law. But Zaccheus promised twice that, to clearThe debt not just with man, but with God.

Any person, be he priest or merchant,Soldier, journeyman, beggar, or even king,Who takes from God to give coin to CaesarMust indeed repay, either in this lifeOr in the next, not just twice or thrice, butFour times over. Purgatory will lastFour times as long, should the debt awaitRepayment until after death. The grave Will not open for judgement until allIs made right in God's sight.

My children, I know you have given yourWidow's mite to the church, that you flinchAt the thought of moneychangers cryingOut for usury in the temple of God.

You, my brothers and sisters in orders,Invest your talents for the profit of The Master, doubling their number and soAre called good and faithful servants in Christ.You are wise virgins, keeping the wicks trimmed,The oil filled, so that the bridegroom may comeHome to warmth and solace

In our Holy Easter week, we will all Remember Christ entering his cityTriumphant, yet He also abased himselfBefore his disciples, washing their feetAs He will clean our sins away. That weekIs when He gives us the gift of his mostPrecious body and blood in bread and wineAnd in torment on the cross so all may rise.

Now Christ is merely a babe nursed by Mary,Protected by Joseph from Herod's men,Venerated by the Angels of God.In the week to come, kings will kneel beforeHis majesty, offering precious gifts.This baby, weak as any child amongus today, will one day become a man,Baptised by John, recognized by GodAs His true son through the Holy Ghost.

We trust that good King Henry, second of That name and his lady Queen Eleanor,Whose Amazons helped conquer Jerusalem,Will remain good and faithful rulers, strongTo our enemies, yet humble in Christ.

Beckett called the faithful, to bow their heads in prayer for the forgiveness of God and His blessings on their king and his kingdom.

*** Henry heard reports. Becket, once his friend, continued to defy him, despite Henry's mercy in allowing him to return to England. He ate his Christmas feasts thinking all the while of his old friend, and the words he spoke, the clear attack on his plan to use the monasteries to fund the kingdom.

When supper ended, Henry called his closest knights to him, and they drank burned and sweetened brandywine. In his cups he said, "What miserable drones and traitors have I nourished and brought up in my household, who let their lord be treated with such shameful contempt by a low-born cleric?"

Four knights stayed after the King took his leave and, after discussing his words, left the following day for Canterbury.

Notes:

The translation of Henry's words is from Simon Schama's History of Britain and is a translation from a biography by Becket's contemporary, Edward Grim.

I liked it better than the usual "Who shall rid me of this troublesome priest?"